


Medic

by lilrenthefox



Category: Justified
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:01:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29515008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilrenthefox/pseuds/lilrenthefox
Summary: Raylan gets injured while apprehending a fugitive.  He hates hospitals, but a kind paramedic agrees to stay with him if he goes to get looked at.
Relationships: Raylan Givens/Original Female Character
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HardsteadEMS](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HardsteadEMS/gifts).



Lights flashed surreally, red and blue scattered the scene. Raylan blinked as he tried to figure out what had happened. Disoriented, the only thing he knew was he was lying on the ground and his entire body hurt. Raising his hand to his head seemed to leave a trail in the air like a B movie’s special effects. He felt something slick and sticky, “Blood…” he thought miserably. His vision started to fade, “Why isn’t anyone helping me?”

Liz arrived on scene, ready to do clean up from a shooting. The lights from her ambulance flashed like a strobe light in a nightclub as she readied her gear. The guy was probably dead, but she’d brought her gear anyway. When a marshal shoots someone they usually don’t survive it. She circled to the back of the house to avoid the numerous officers and people in suits looking all too important. Throwing her duffle bag over her shoulder and carrying her med kit, she crunched through leaves towards the back door. As she reached for the doorknob she heard leaves rustle, but leaves didn’t moan.

Raylan heard footsteps, he tried to sit up but his head swam. The steps got closer, someone was kneeling next to him. He opened his eyes, a woman with her hair tied back was reaching into a large bag.  
“Hey,” she said softly, “looks like you got roughed up. Can you hear me?”  
Raylan nodded, wishing he could respond, but a small groan was all he could manage.  
“Don’t wanna move you yet, but I’m puttin’ in a line,” she cut his sleeve to his elbow for access.  
Raylan ground his teeth and growled, “Hurts.”  
“Yeah, they let me carry around the good stuff. I’m Liz, I’m a paramedic.”  
Raylan put his hand on her leg and squeezed approval, usually Liz didn’t like people touching her; but for some reason she didn’t mind him.  
“What’s your name?” she asked, trying to get him talking.  
“Raylan!” a voice shouted before he could answer. Tim sprinted across the backyard to his partner’s side. “Jesus, what happened?”  
“Not sure,” Liz secured the IV and pushed some narcotics, Raylan relaxed. “I found him like this on my way in. You’re lucky, this is my last call tonight. I was supposed to get off shift an hour ago.”  
“We’ve been looking all over for you,” Tim grabbed Raylan’s hand and squeezed.  
“M’fine,” Raylan stuttered.  
“Yeah, with a head injury lookin’ like you got in a fight with a heavyweight usin’ brass knuckles,” Liz smirked. “You lay still and let me do my job.” Raylan lifted his head and tried to sit up, “Hey now, you stop all that.”  
“C-cold,” Raylan shivered.  
“Not uncommon,” Liz lifted his head into her lap. “He didn’t get shot, no serious injuries that I can see besides the head. He needs to get to the hospital though.”  
“No,” Raylan groaned.  
“He hates hospitals,” Tim said.  
“I don’t give a damn what he hates,” Liz said firmly.  
“M’fine,” Raylan tried to sit up again.  
“Oh no y’don’t,” Liz cradled his head in her lap. “Go get the stretcher out of the back of my rig…”  
“Tim Gutterson, Raylan’s partner,” Tim got up and headed for the ambulance.  
“Now, Raylan,” Liz stroked his forehead, “I’m going to take you to the hospital and get you checked out.”  
Raylan’s hand searched for comfort, Liz offered him hers and he squeezed it. “One condition,” he licked bloody lips.  
“I’ll bite, whatcha want?”  
“You stay,” Raylan felt himself drifting.  
“Okay,” Liz smiled, “I’m off work anyways.”


	2. Hospital

Raylan’s hand entwined with Liz’s as they rode in the back of the ambulance, the back roads were bumpy and every time the vehicle hit one Raylan squeezed his eyes shut. Liz had him on a hefty dose of narcotics, but couldn’t really sedate him with a head injury.  
“Lexington hospital this is paramedic Hardstead en route to Lexington ED. I have a 44 year old male with an altered mental status, chest injuries and a head injury from blunt force trauma. Vitals are BP 130/90 and unstable, heart rate 65, respiratory rate normal and have an established line. ETA about twenty minutes from your location. Do you have any questions or commands? We’re almost there,” she reassured him. Static on the other end as dispatch  
“What happened?” Tim asked.  
“Guy ran,” Raylan said. “I pursued. He hit me with a bat.”  
“Jesus,” Tim sighed. “How’d you get outside?”  
“He was draggin’ me out back, didn’t want me bleedin’ on the carpet,” Raylan snickered.  
“How impolite,” Liz said. “Can’t stitch you up with these roads, but I wanna check you over for broken ribs.”  
“S’fine,” Raylan did his best to nod through the neck brace.  
Liz didn’t bother putting on gloves. It would be difficult enough to feel breaks through his shirt, though thankfully Tim had helped him out of the vest. The shirt was stained with blood from his head but no other injuries looked serious. She ran her hands over his chest, Raylan squirmed. “Hurt?”  
“Yeah,” he panted.  
“Does it hurt to breathe?”  
“Yeah,” his eyes started to drift.  
“Stay awake,” Liz rubbed his cheek with her thumb. “I gave you somethin’ for the pain with the promise you’d stay awake.”  
“Yeah,” Raylan swallowed, his hand found her thigh and squeezed as he closed his eyes. “M’still here.”

The hospital was fairly busy, seemed every redneck in the area had decided tonight was the perfect time to go hunting or chopping wood or a number of other equally dangerous tasks to do at night while intoxicated. Tim and Liz ran down the hallway with the doctors as they rushed to an exam room. Voices all around blended together, and he squeezed her hand hard to keep grounded. In his days at Glynco, he’d been trained to find something to keep his mind steadied and at this moment that was the medic who’d found him.  
“Need to get a scan of his head,” one of the doctors was talking to Liz and Tim.  
“Good luck,” Tim scoffed. “Little known fact about Raylan, he’s claustrophobic.”  
“Can’t sedate him with a head injury,” the doctor said.  
“I’ll go in,” Liz offered.  
“Can’t have anyone else in there while we’re—“  
“She goes in,” Raylan said pained, “or I don’t.”  
“Fine,” the doctor sighed heavily and frowned at Raylan.  
“Oh, and he’s a stubborn one,” Tim snickered. “You should see the paperwork he leaves in his wake.”  
“Get him in a gown, let’s see what we’re dealing with,” the doctor left the room.  
A nurse unhooked the straps on the stretcher, but when Liz let go of Raylan’s hand and the nurse tried to move him he refused. “Gotta get you in a bed so the paramedics can take this gurney,” she offered.  
“I got him,” Liz nudged Tim with her elbow.  
“Don’t you have other calls tonight?” the nurse raised her eyebrow.  
“I was supposed to be off two hours ago, my partner can take the stretcher. I’m stayin’ here.”  
Raylan smiled, reaching for her hand. She and Tim got him to the bed and sat him up to take off his shirt. Bruises exploded over his skin, angry and purple with welts across his ribs. “You’re gonna need an x-ray too,” Liz commented.  
“Wonderful,” Raylan bitched as the room swam. He leaned heavily against Liz as Tim pulled his boots off. “Where’s my hat?”  
“He acts like that hat gives him superpowers,” Tim laughed as he set his boots on the chair by the bed.  
“Jeans gotta go too,” Tim said. “No metal in the MRI.”  
Liz helped him out of his jeans, careful to leave his boxers on to preserve modesty. The hospital gown was thin and flimsy and Raylan shivered. Liz pulled a blanket over him as they waited for the tech to come get him for tests.

He managed to stand for x-rays, though he was shaky on his feet and Liz had to help him lay on the MRI table. “I’ll be right here,” she took his hand.  
“Thank you,” he murmured. The nurse had administered some Valium to ease the anxiety, but it was a low dose and wouldn’t last long. Liz strapped on a lead vest and stood by the machine as Raylan’s head disappeared. His grip tightened as the machine whirred and clicked. “Out,” he said, choked.  
“Almost finished,” Liz tried to comfort him by stroking the back of his hand with her thumb.  
“Out,” he repeated.  
“We’ve got what we need,” the tech’s voice came through the speaker. “You can get him out.”  
Raylan sat up too fast, stomach turning. Liz barely had enough time to grab the waste bin before he threw up. She put a hand on his back, rubbing lightly, her other hand holding the trash can. He leaned into her when he was finished, eyes watering. Tim handed her a towel from the linen shelf as he came in.  
“Sorry,” Raylan rasped.  
“Don’t be,” she tilted his head to wipe his face. “C’mon, let’s get you back to bed.” Raylan nodded slowly. Liz put his arm over her shoulder and helped him back into the hospital bed. He was close to passing out by the time they got him back to his room.

“Looks like he’s got a few broken ribs, won’t know anything from the MRI for another half hour,” the doctor said. “Keep him awake, we’re getting some fluids in him. It’ll be touch and go for a while, but Mr. Givens, I’m pretty sure you have a concussion.”  
“Sounds about right,” Raylan groaned.  
“Especially since you threw up,” the doctor leaned in with a pen light.  
Raylan’s reflexes kicked in and his hand shot up, Liz grabbed his wrist, “It’s the doctor, Raylan.” Embarrassed, Raylan mumbled an apology. “Might wanna move a little slower around him.”  
“My fault,” the doctor jotted a few notes before leaving them alone again.

The MRI results confirmed a concussion, even without the scan Raylan was throwing up and running a low fever. “No way we can send you home like this, Mr. Givens.”  
“Not stayin’ here,” Raylan protested.  
“I’ve already started the admissions paperwork,” the doctor frowned.  
“Not…staying…” Raylan was insistent.  
“And if you get worse, who’s going to bring you to the ER?”  
“I will,” Liz raised her hand. “I don’t have my car, so Tim will have to bring me wherever I need to go so I can spend a night watching over him.”  
“I don’t like that,” the doctor frowned and Raylan decided he didn’t like him much.  
“I’m not—staying here—“ Raylan said as firmly as he could given his current situation.  
“No, I’ll keep you company tonight,” Liz patted his shoulder.  
“Art’s gonna wanna talk to you,” Tim said.  
“He can come too, it’ll be a sleepover,” Raylan said drunkenly.  
“Tim, you drivin’?” Liz asked.  
“Guess so,” Tim signed off on Raylan’s discharge papers.


	3. Recovery

Raylan settled onto the bed of his hotel room, wishing he’d picked up better before having so many people over. Art wasn’t far behind them as they helped him into bed.  
“Raylan,” Art said his name like a father talking to a son.  
“Boss,” Raylan slurred.  
“I’m giving you a break tonight, but tomorrow I need you to make a statement.”  
“Yes sir,” Raylan sank into the pillows Liz had propped behind his shoulders and head.  
“You take care of him tonight, miss…?” Art let his voice trail off.  
“Liz,” she extended a hand, “Liz Hardstead. I’m the one who found him.”  
“Makes me feel better he’s got someone to make sure he doesn’t keel over,” Art smirked. “Seriously though, he’s stubborn.”  
“Duely noted,” Liz nodded.  
“I’ll stick around a while,” Tim offered.  
“Good, Rachel’s got the guy behind bars,” Art breathed a sigh of relief. “We got him, Ray. Get some rest.”  
“Not allowed to,” Raylan complained. “She promised to annoy me all night,” he poked Liz.  
“To make sure he doesn’t have a more serious head injury,” Liz explained.  
“Well, you’re in good hands,” Art squeezed her shoulder. “If I’m out any later my wife’s gonna have my head. I’ll check on you in the morning.”  
Tim took the chair in the corner, “I’ll be here long enough to avoid paperwork, I’m beat.”  
“Sounds good,” Liz smiled at him.  
Raylan shifted, grabbing at his stomach. Liz grabbed the trash can and rolled him onto her lap as his stomach heaved. When he was finished she went to the bathroom for a damp cloth without a word.  
Tim sensed Raylan didn’t want him around, after all it would hurt his ego. “Look what we found,” he put Raylan’s hat on the table before adding, “I’m a phone call away, Ray,” he gave Raylan’s arm a squeeze.  
“I know,” Raylan coughed, afraid he’d throw up again and not wanting to get anything on Tim.  
Liz sat on the bed next to Raylan, wiping his face and neck. She handed him a cup of mouthwash, “I’ll take care of it.”  
“Thank you,” Raylan’s cheeks flushed.  
“I’m headin’ out,” Tim grabbed his keys.  
“Take care of yourself, deputy,” Liz rose and gave him a quick hug.  
“You take care of my partner,” he said. “I need someone to sing Dolly Parton with and all I know is the soprano version.”  
“You two make a great team,” Liz nodded.

Raylan rubbed his chest, the pain had gotten worse since he’d thrown up again. “I can help with that,” Liz offered.  
“How?” Raylan raised an eyebrow.  
“Promethazine,” Liz dug through her med kit. “It’ll sting, but it keeps you from throwing up.”  
“Sorry y’had to clean that up,” Raylan wanted to crawl under a rock.  
“I’ve seen worse,” she pulled out a case with syringes in it. “You want the meds?”  
“Yeah,” Raylan winced. “Anything for my chest?”  
“No more narcotics,” Liz shook her head. “Not with your head like it is.”  
“Thought I’d ask,” Raylan leaned back and lay his arm in her lap.  
“Big stick, darlin’,” she felt beneath the skin until a vein popped up that she was sure she could hit easily. Raylan barely responded to the stick, the drug stung as warned. “All over,” she rubbed his arm and disposed of the syringe in a travel sharps container. She grabbed her book and settled in to flip through tv channels at the foot of the bed.  
“Liz,” Raylan called to her softly.  
“Yeah?”  
“Would you come here?” he reached for her.  
“Of course,” she sat beside him, letting him rest his head on her chest.  
“Y’know,” he frowned, “my ex-wife didn’t take care of me like this.”  
“What a bitch,” Liz muttered and caught herself. “I mean—“  
“No, it’s all right,” he snickered. “I’m glad you’re here.”  
“Me too.”  
Raylan titled his chin up towards her and kissed her lightly. “Maybe you’ll stay?”  
“I’d like that,” Liz ran her fingers down his chest beneath his shirt and he practically purred.


End file.
